


Weird is Part of the Job

by a_lanart



Series: With Friends Like These [2]
Category: Highlander: The Series, The Dresden Files (TV series)
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-18
Updated: 2009-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-03 08:07:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_lanart/pseuds/a_lanart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Methos is no stranger to reviving in a morgue, but he's never met an ME like Butters before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weird is Part of the Job

Title: Weird is Part of the Job   
Author: Aeron Lanart  
Genre: crossover - Dresden Files/Highlander  
Rating: PG  
Warnings/Spoilers: None  
Pairing/Characters: Butters, Bob, (Murphy and Harry) from DF. Methos (Amanda and Duncan) from HL  
Discalimer Dresden Files stuff is the property of Jim Butcher and the scifi channel.  
Highlander stuff is the property of Panzer/Davies productions  
No copyright infringement intended, no profit made.

Title from Star Trek: Voyager - 'Deadlock'

~*~

Weird is Part of the Job

Methos groaned as the first breath of life returning flooded his lungs with air. One of these days he was seriously going to consider taking Amanda's head, purely to keep her from springing unpleasant surprises on him. He had entertained it as a passing fancy, but the thought of MacLeod at his most implacable and tenacious had always dissuaded him. But still... he reached out, expecting to feel the ground, cool and damp and instead his fingers met air. He cautiously felt around a bit and touched metal. A trolley or table of some sort.

"Not another bloody morgue," he growled under his breath, and then realised there was the sound of rapid, panicked breathing coming from elsewhere in the room. He opened his eyes; at least they hadn't had time to remove his clothes, which was one thing to be thankful about he supposed. He eased himself up into a sitting position and swung his legs over the side of the autopsy slab, which brought him face to face with his unexpected company. Methos frowned at the sight of the balding, bearded man with a large stick in one hand and a crucifix in the other, wearing a t shirt that announced 'I heart polka'.

"You come anywhere near me and I'll... I'll..." Methos couldn't help it, he laughed.

"For God's sake, I'm not a bloody zombie or a vampire you know."

"Ah. Good. With the weird stuff I get in here you can never be too sure." The man shoved the crucifix in a pocket and lowered the stick, though he didn't put it down.

"Weird stuff?" Methos was interested despite himself, even though he knew he had to get out of there and pretty damn quickly too.

"Yeah. Mysterious deaths, bodies that disappear or have unexplained trauma such as lightning damage when there haven't been any storms. That sort of thing. This is why you were assigned to me and not one of the other MEs. Good thing for you actually."

"Obviously. Look, I'm sorry I scared you but I really need to get out of here and make some calls. Know anywhere I can lay low for a bit?"

"Actually, yes. Stay here, and don't touch anything. I'll be back in 2 minutes and then we'll get you out." He disappeared, taking the stick with him.

Methos surprised himself by complying with the order. The ME had taken someone coming back to life in his morgue surprisingly well, and the reference to 'weird stuff' sent his curiosity onto overdrive, bad timing or not. In less than the 2 promised minutes the man was back, wearing a coat.

"We're leaving, just like that?"

"Yup. They're used to me popping in and out at odd times; if you have a reputation you might as well milk it for what it's worth. I'm Waldo Butters, by the way."

"Adam Pierson." Methos watched as Butters disappeared through a door, presumably leading into an office. He returned with Methos's coat slung over one arm.

"Well Adam, I think you might need this. Cold out tonight. Not that it would kill you to do without I'm sure." He looked askance at Methos. "One thing though."

"What?"

"Can I check your vitals first?"

"My..." Methos was about to protest, until he remembered the crucifix and the stick, and also what had looked like a bottle of holy water on one of the shelves. The man was either paranoid, or really had come across 'weird stuff'. "Oh if you must."

In short order they were making their way out of the back door, Butters waving nonchalantly at the security camera while Methos kept out of sight in the shadows.

Ensconced in Butters car, Methos relaxed slightly, breathing a sigh of relief. Escaping from morgues was getting more and more problematical as the red tape piled high and security grew tighter. He felt Butters' eyes on him, but refused to acknowledge the glance; maybe if he ignored him the ME might give up. Somehow Methos doubted that he would, and was proved right with Butters' next breath.

"So, you've done the being dead thing before then?"

"And just how did you reach that startling conclusion?"

"You weren't surprised. I saw you dead, I saw you heal and I saw you take your first breath. Then there was the 'Not another bloody morgue' comment." Methos hid a smile at Butters' surprisingly accurate mimicry of his accent. "Not the reaction of someone who unexpectedly finds himself alive again is it?"

"I suppose not." He agreed. Butters continued, in an almost cheerful tone of voice.

"You don't need to tell me what you are; in fact I'm probably better off not knowing. I just want you to promise that you aren't going to hurt me or the other people who are going to help you."

"Why on earth would I hurt you?"

"To guarantee silence."

"Ah. Well, I promise I won't hurt you for what it's worth. Sounds to me like you've probably had practice at needing to stay silent." Methos was surprised at the bray of unexpected laughter from Butters.

"You'd better believe it." The car slowed and Butters pulled over to the side of the road. "We're here, anyway." Methos glanced around; they were surrounded by red brick buildings, some of which looked pretty old by Chicago standards. He followed Butters across the road. "This is the place," Butters announced, walking toward a building with an arched doorway and windows. He put his hand to the door and paused for a moment, as if waiting for something and then he pushed open the door, stepping over the threshold. "Dresden? Harry Dresden? Are you there?" Butters moved further into the main room and turned to Methos, who was following him closely. "It looks like he's out. Crap. He's probably been called in by Murphy. Look, I'd better get back to the morgue but you wait here and make your phone calls. I'll get him to come round as soon as I catch up with him and you can decide what to do then." Methos stared at him.

"You're going to leave me, a total stranger who woke up in your morgue, in someone else's home on my own. You're very trusting aren't you?"

"You won't be alone. There's the...um... cat. And Harry has ways of protecting his property. Have a look at the door." With that Butters turned on his heel and hurried out. Curious, Methos wandered over to the door where it was still swinging in the breeze of Butters' exit. There, stencilled in yellow on one of the panes of glass, was the legend 'Harry Dresden, Wizard'. Methos snorted with laughter

"Oh you have got to be kidding me," he said breathlessly to no-one in particular.

"On the contrary, I think you'll find he's deadly serious." Methos tensed; there had been no-one else in the room behind him, and he'd heard no footsteps either. What concerned him most was the fact that he recognised the voice from a different time, when he'd been a different person but he couldn't quite place the name. He turned, slowly, cursing the lack of sword and gun, to find himself confronted by a once familiar pair of pale blue eyes in a face that was topped with a shock of silver hair. His brain finally latched onto the name that went with the face, the eyes and the voice.

"Hrothbert of Bainbridge." Methos smiled as he let the name roll off his tongue and then narrowed his eyes as another memory impinged. "Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"Oh I am. Quite Dead." The figure walked toward Methos with a smile... and passed straight through him, leaving an unpleasantly cold sensation crawling through Methos in his wake. "See? And you still have an abundance of life. Some things never change." The ghost let out the semblance of a sigh. "Well, it's been a long time Methos, hasn't it? Do you still play chess?"


End file.
